


Let Me Adore You

by kkeithkatt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Courting Rituals, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkeithkatt/pseuds/kkeithkatt
Summary: "We're going to help you, man, so don't worry about a thing."What follows is, quite simply, the worst idea ever.In which Shiro pines and everyone helps in the worst way.Alternatively: how to (not) court a Galra.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 191
Collections: Sheithlentines 2020





	Let Me Adore You

**Author's Note:**

> For bxkabaka.  
> This is my sheithlentine for gift for bxkabaka who wanted Galra raised Keith. I tried to sprinkle in some Kosmo love in there for you too :)  
> I completely flipped script like twice while writing this and it's my first time doing a fandom event (plus writing in awhile) but I hope you like it! I may or may not post the scrapped ideas later haha.

_“Black to base. Repeat. Black to base.”_

_A pause. Static thrums along the line. He checks the code. It matches._

_A deep voice echoes back, sounding robotic._

_“Base to black. Code?”_

_“ . . . Z4-79 Alpha.”_

_The voice speaks faster this time. Warmer. “Agent number?”_ _  
_ _“Negative, base. This is Voltron.”_

_The voice returns. “Agent number?” It doesn’t sound as welcoming this time around and Shiro quickly checks the notes Kolivan gave him, flipping through them._

_“TI9-8*B-4S.” He says and after a beat where nothing is said he tacks on. “Sorry. I forgot.”_

_The voice returns and this time it sounds less robotic. A man’s. A real one but just as deep, if only a bit more warm. “No harm, Black Paladin. I am Captain Red. Welcome to Marmora. What business do you have today?”_ _  
_ _He clears his throat._ _Captain Red. A codename,_ _he thinks._

_“Just coordinates, Captain. A way to keep in touch.” Kolivan and him had agreed that should they be entering an area particularly dangerous or suspicious, it was wise to share their locations. Voltron was eager to pursue the use of actual allies now and the Blades new to having help at all. It was a new experience for both of them and if the pause on the other line was any indication, the captain has never dealt with this before._

_“Very well.” He says after some time. “I shall pass it along to leader.”_ _  
_ _“Thank you.” Shiro responds. His heart does not yet know this voice or how comfortable he will be with it yet and so he does not smile. “End transmission.”_ _  
_ _The line cuts and his screen goes blank._

  
  


_“This is the Black Paladin of Voltron. We are in need of backup immediately. I repeat-” He is cut off by a familiar voice._

_“What are your coordinates, Commander?” Captain Red speaks, his voice stern and unflinching. Commander, Shiro notes. That’s a new one and with the warm tickle in his belly, it’s not an unwelcome title. Not by this man anyway._

_“Same as my last transmission, Captain.”_ _  
_ _He doesn’t hear anything on Red’s end, not the sound of his breathing or his voice or the clicking of keys but he knows the blade is informing Kolivan as he waits. He jerks Black’s controls when an empire ship shoots another beam at him, this one too close for his comfort. Black’s displeasure smarts his mind's edges and he feels her own dissatisfaction mirroring his. He gives her an apology and continues to eye the battlefield._

_Red pipes up again on the other end. “A team is enroute and should be there in less than a few minutes, Commander. Leader will be among them.” Shiro feels the warmth growing at Red’s use of the word minutes. It’s not the time for it, never really is, but it’s nice to hear the familiar word he taught the man weeks ago when the topic of time measurements happened to come up at a slip of his tongue. He’s comfortable with the universal time measurements the alteans and galrans are familiar with but even he makes mistakes sometimes. Red’s use of it makes him feel included and noticed and he bites back at smile that Black briefly laughs at him for._

_There is no time for distractions like this, he reminds himself._

_“Roger that, Captain.”_

  
  


_The first time he receives a distress call from the Marmora, it is not Red’s voice that fills his comms. Shiro’s the one to answer the call, Pidge and Allura by his side as they’ve been having a discussion in the control center when they received it._

_The voice is unfamiliar and a woman’s and it rings loudly in the relative quiet of the room._

_“Marmora base to Voltron.” She says and it’s all hard edges and firmness, so against Red’s own that it has Shiro standing and rushing to the screen before he can even blink, hand slamming down harder than necessary to push the button to receive the transmission._

_“This is Voltron. What’s wrong?” The Blade has never called them before, not on this line, the distress code blinking up at him in a series of blue letters. He tries not to panic, the lack of Red’s voice really stressing him out more than it should._

_The blade doesn’t seem bothered though. “Leader and a team of blades have been heavily ambushed on planet Zalthiria in the Lyra quadrant. Extraction is needed.”_

_Extraction. The Blades motto of mission before individual rings in his ears, Red’s voice low and unhappy as he had told him about it, and he bites his tongue with questions pointed at the end. This is not an individual, he tries to reason, this is their leader and a whole squad of fellow blades. The loss would be heavy if they failed to return._

_He can hear Allura and Pidge bringing up the coordinates for the planet and when he asks for exact location, he yells those too over his back._

_“Got it!” Pidge yells back and the blade must hear it._

_“Thank you.” She says, voice rising in tone as a little bit of tension leaves her. Relief is evident, even though not yet earned. They will not fail though._

_Before he can hold it back, he finds himself asking about the blade he’s come to call a friend._

_“Is Captain Red with them?” He asks and he pretends he doesn’t hear the slight thrum of fear in his voice, pretends he doesn’t have a heavy hand gripping his heart. It’s undeserved and not at all needed._

_The blade on the other end doesn’t answer immediately and he knows before she does what she’ll say._

_“Yes.” Her voice is quiet. Somber. “Captain is.”_

_He ends the call, swallowing hard and pretending he doesn’t feel the weight of the others stares on his neck._

_They will not fail. They cannot fail._

  
  


_“The first star I recognized was the north star.” Shiro says. He’s sitting in the control center, legs pulled up to his chest as he leans heavily back into his seat. A blanket wraps around his legs and he toys with his bangs. The transmission line hums steadily on screen. “My grandfather called it the wishing star and told me any wish I made on it would come true, but only if it was important enough.”_

_Red’s voice is gentle when he responds and if he were here, Shiro liked to think those yellow eyes would be fond as they looked through him. “What did you wish for?”_

_He smiles, soft and sleepy. “If I tell you it won’t come true.”_

_“Oh.” Red gasps, apology and disappointment warring in his tone and Shiro chuckles._

_“I was six so a puppy.” He laughs again and he expects to have to explain what a puppy is to Red, like he has with most earth creatures and things, but Red seems to know what it is as he cheerfully responds with a laugh of his own._

_“That’s fair.” The man says as Shiro imagines his fluffy purple head bobbing up and down with a nod. “I would have wished for the same thing. Fortunately, I have Kosmo already.”_

_“Kosmo?” He asks, brows furrowed and vision blurring because he really should be getting to bed. It’s hours past the call for it but his feet had carried him here, like they have many sleepless nights before, and just like before, Red’s voice had answered his request call and is lulling him to sleep with it’s deep, quiet thrum._

_Red hums, happy and distant. “My wolf.”_

_And before Shiro can ask because honestly what the hell? There are space wolves? And Red has one? And named it Kosmo apparently. Before he can ask though his eyes are sliding shut and like Red knows, likely now familiar with how Shiro sounds when tired, he swears he hears his soft voice ending the call._

_“Sleep well, Commander.”_

  
  


_“Good morning, Red.” He greets, voice still sleep muddled but light nonetheless. The nickname rolls off his tongue now, used to calling the Blade that, and as if he’s said it a million times before (because maybe he has), the galra responds in kind, though significantly more awake._

_“Good morning, Black Paladin.”_

  
  


_“My first mission was when I was ten.” The man says._

_It’s the middle of the day and they are moving along space in lazy glides. There’s no danger, no reason for Shiro to be on call with the Marmoran base, but he’s come to calling the other by habit, used to sending the galra transmissions when he has nothing better to do._

_More often than not, Captain Red is the one to answer. At the beginning it had been a variety of voices but Shiro’s come to recognize and expect this particular one when Red started responding again and stayed as the answerer. It’s a rare occurrence for him to not be the one picking up Voltron’s call, and when he’s not Shiro is either squashing fear for his safety or fumbling out a rushed response of coordinates as an excuse for his pointless transmission._

_Today Red answered though and after Shiro had confirmed that he didn’t have any missions today, it was easy to sway the galra into just chatting. He’s grateful these things don’t run on minutes because Shiro knows their bill would be high otherwise. He tries not to wonder if Kolivan notes the unusually long logs. He has never asked before._

_“Ten?” He asks because he cannot help himself. He doesn’t know what ten translates to in a galra’s lifespan but he feels it’s still remarkably young. A child has no place in a war like this._

_He imagines Red nodding. “Yes. The empire and galra in general are trained young. We’re a warrior species, our blood calls for a fight, yearns for it. Leader deemed me ready then.”_ _  
_ _He tries to envision it. A tiny galra (if such a thing exists) clad in the Blade’s trademark dark, skin tight suit, hood up and mask covering their face. He wonders if Red even knew how to wield a blade then but he supposes he must have. There’s no way Kolivan would have sent him in weaponless._

_Still. He cannot see it._

_“What was it like?” He asks, leaning into his palm as he rests his chin in it, elbow propped on the panel before him._

_“Boring.” Red laughs and it smarts one out of Shiro too surprisingly. “It was purely for training really, just intel gathering. We already knew the planet was peaceful so there wasn’t much danger going in. He sent me with Antok to meet up with one of our informants.” Despite his initial response, Shiro can detect the fondness in Red’s voice as he recalls his first mission. For him, he imagines it’s like what his own first flight felt like. It had been on a training hoverbike at his grandfather’s house, the speed low and the air beneath him even lower. But he had felt the thrill of it and had never let go since._

_He tells Red about it and for the next few hours, until he has to leave for training, the two trade stories of times long ago._

  
  


_“Agent 1AK-Delta 763 to base.” Krolia voices into the Black lions comms._

_They’re drifting through space, the lions slow and weak and tired. The battle with Lotor burns through all of them, everyone’s limbs heavy and bruised. He tries to stare ahead as they fly, tries to focus on the coordinates they’ve agreed on instead of the humming of the unanswered transmission line._

_Krolia sighs and repeats her number. “1AK-Delta 763 to base. I repeat, 1AK-Delta 763 to base.”_

_The call is never answered and he grips the controls tightly._

  
  


_The next blade they talk to isn’t Red or even through a comm. It’s Kolivan and they’re laying his weakened body down onto the ground. The druids magic weighs him down, taints him, and Allura’s own magic chases it back as she clutches his hand, eyes closed as she heals him. Slowly, Shiro hears his breaths come out stronger and easier._

_“Where is he?” Krolia asks him, voice strained and hard. He doesn’t know who she’s talking about and maybe it’s a bit too soon to be asking the man of anything but Kolivan doesn’t seem to mind as he turns his head to slowly face her._

_His voice is apologetic when he responds, words low and quiet._

_“I do not know.”_

_The “I’m sorry” hangs in the air but no one speaks for it and Krolia doesn’t ask for it as she walks away._

_Shiro does not ask about Red._

  
  


_He stands with Krolia in the black lion as her pack hangs over her shoulder, a single strap dangling as she types in an unfamiliar line of code into his comm link. He says nothing as he stands in the cockpits doorway, just leans against the side and watches._

_She types the numbers in with rough jabs and a visibly tension to her shoulders. She’ll be leaving soon with Kolivan to find the rest of the blades, if any are left. Acxa’s voice echoes in his mind, reminding him they’ve been gone for three years._

_He tries not to feel the grief. Red could still be out there. There’s no time to mourn anyway._

_The transmission line catches when the code is run and Krolia’s breath hitches as she stares wide eyed at the screen._

_“Krolia to Keith. Please . . .” He’s never heard her like this, in the short time he’s known her, and it has him on edge, a lump rising in his throat. The call continues to hum, silent. “Please answer me.”_

_The screen blinks, humming._

_“Keith, baby, please. This is Krolia.”_ _  
_ _The call remains unanswered and when no one responds or picks up after a few minutes of dead silence, she cuts it and rushes out._

_Shiro pretends to not notice the tears that run down her face._

_He doesn’t know who Keith is but for Krolia’s sake, he hopes the man is still out there, waiting and ready to be found._

  
  


Two, nearly three, years later finds Shiro on earth, waiting for the Blades to reach him.

It’s been almost a year since the war ended. A year of near peace, of endless negotiations and relief efforts. A year since they lost the lions to fix everything, a year of Allura healing her quintessence from the battle that nearly took her from them. A year of gaining allies and meeting new faces.

It’s been a long year, a great year, and like with everything, earth had wanted to celebrate it. They wanted something to honor this victory and what better than loud music and copious amounts of alcohol?

As the day of the anniversary approaches, Shiro gets sent more and more invitations to various parties. Parties all on the same day, at the same time, and he dismisses all of them with a polite “sorry can’t come” and while he really wishes he could say “sorry I don’t want to come” he really _can’t_.

Because the Garrison isn’t the lone party pooper everyone claims it to be and is hosting their own kind of celebration, though this one isn’t just for earth but rather their surrounding allies too. Shiro’s hesitant to call it the coalition’s party but honestly that’s what it is, as all the invites had been sent out to the rebel leaders and their members. Every main figure that helped them in their fight had received an overly fancy worded letter three phoebs ago and as the day is almost upon them, more and more aliens trinkle into earth’s airs. They’ve still got about a month left but Shiro has learned to expect many early, as everyone seems eager both for a break and an opportunity to learn more about the Voltron paladin’s home planet.

Among them had been Ryner, who Pidge greeted with a hug and tugs of her hand to Pidge’s own lab, and Matt with N-7, Rolo, and Nyma. The four of them had quickly escaped the Garrison guards watchful eye and haven’t been seen since. Shiro is pretty sure they’re up to no good and he wants nothing to do with it.

Yesterday Olia had arrived with Kolivan and Krolia in tow.

Today finds Shiro walking behind the two blade leaders, ready to greet the first of the Blades to arrive. Most of the blades had arrived early that morning and Shiro had been there to greet every one of them, happy to see their first true allies and also because it was technically his job. This is the last of the ships on the schedule though and with aching feet, he’s ready to get it over with and return to his overtly soft bed at home.

Walking into the hanger, Shiro takes slow, easy steps as the ship lands and the door lifts to open. The two leaders crowd it, welcoming the group of girls Shiro recognizes as Lotor’s once generals. They escape the pod with loud laughs and giggles. The taller two, Ezor and Zethrid if he remembers right, hold hands and make kissy faces at each other while Acxa wrinkles her nose but laughs nonetheless. They shuffle past, accepting Kolivan’s greetings and Krolia’s smile, and head out the door he’s still lingering by.

No one else leaves the pod for a moment and Shiro wonders if there’s another reason the two could still be standing there when another figure finally makes their way out. Or rather, two figures.

The first thing he sees is a giant blue wolf that’s easily the size of a small horse. Electric blue fur shines in the sunlight peering down on them and a happy bark leaves it as a tongue comes out to lick at their snout.

The next thing is legs, pure long legs.

A masked blade steps out of the ship, feet making tiny pats against the metal steps as they go down. They are in a uniform more similar to Kolivan and Krolia’s than their fellow shipmates. Purple wrappings and a blue tunic skirt sway as they step forward. They’re clearly higher ranked, maybe even a commander, and Shiro straightens and takes a few more steps forward towards the group.

Standing a bit back still, his leisure pace coming to a smooth stop, Shiro watches as Kolivan reaches forward to grip the strangers forearm, his large hand easily encompassing the whole of the man's arm. The smaller blade seems unbothered though, returning the grip with an easy air. He can’t see their face but Shiro can just imagine the grin there as Kolivan pulls his hand back just to swipe his heavy claws over the man's masked head. They skim where the ears would be, disappearing under the hood and escaping seconds later. Whoever this man was, was clearly close to the Blade leaders, Shiro thought.

Kolivan takes a step back though and immediately Krolia is crowding into the newcomers space. With a speed and ferocity he’s only seen in battle, she scoops the Blade up and close into a deep hug that has the man lifted off the ground a few inches. A laugh echoes across the open hanger, light and easy as his arms come up to return it. Krolia grips the side of his face, knocking the hood back, and peppers a kiss to their forehead, her eyes closed as she holds the pose for a minute. There’s a silent calm to the moment as she seems to just breathe his presence in and him doing the same for hers.

Really close, Shiro amends.

She pulls him back into a hug, the two of them wrapping themselves tightly together as if the rest of the world can just wait (and it surely can and will). The shorter blade tucks his face into her neck, Krolia’s short hair doing a nice job of hiding him, and she rubs her nose over his head, scenting him.

The giant blue wolf at the man's side scoots closer to the pair, butting his nose against their legs and shoving his head between their knees. They adjust easily, not even separating to look down, and the wolf licks at one of them, tongue poking out in a little blep.

Before long, Krolia steps back from the man, her hands lingering on his shoulders as she takes in the mere sight of him. He feels like he’s intruding on something private as she looks, the gentle curve of her smile unfamiliar to him and all too warm. This is someone incredibly precious to her, someone important, and his presence here, witnessing it, is like an unwelcome shadow.

Just as Shiro is ready to bid himself farewell, to take a step back and allow the two of them their moment, Krolia drops her hands and turns to him fully, a proud set to her jaw and eyes. She’s glowing, absolutely radiant with confidence, and despite himself, he finds himself straightening, spine stiffening in an effort to impress.

“Shiro,” she says, a hand coming back up to rest on the masked strangers shoulder like she can’t help herself. “This is my son. Keith.”

Time stops as not only does the shock of such a revelation register but so does the absolute ensnarement of this man when the blade lifts a hand up to remove his mask.

What greets him is easily the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Long dark hair pulled back into a warriors braid, streaked with purple and pink, frames a heart shaped face. The deepest of blues stare at him, eyes so much like the night sky Shiro fell in love with as a kid. The biggest shock though, is how remarkably human he is, evident by the curves of his face and the pale skin that spots his purple fur in seemingly random patches. The man faces him. A pouty mouth curves into a gentle smile as the galra, this Keith, lifts his hand out to shake Shiro’s. Behind him, a tail flicks and he almost shrieks in pure delight at it’s sudden appearance.

Suddenly, Shiro is not so tired.

As he grips it back weakly, barely feeling the motion at all because again, the most beautiful man ever is _touching_ him, the man speaks.

“Commander.” He greets, voice like smooth whiskey and oh. _Oh_. 

Shiro knows this voice. _Red,_ his heart sings, as if he needs the reminder.

It’s been years since he’s heard him, years since he has picked up the line. He’d inquired about Red when Kolivan had reached Earth three years ago after the battle with Sendak and while he knew the man was alive, he hasn’t heard of him since. But here he is now and god would Shiro recognize his voice anywhere.

This is the voice that’s been on the receiving end of almost all his calls to the Marmora base all these years. It’s been Keith’s voice that has picked up his distressed signals when Voltron needed an extra hand, his voice that’s traded a few quips with him over the comms. Keith’s voice that’s talked him through strategy’s and hazy concerns late into the night when both of them should be asleep but were not.

Shiro knows this voice like it’s an old friend and maybe in way it is. Haven’t they known each other long enough? He knows a few things about Keith, things the Blade has slipped in passing over their number of talks and check ins. He knows his favorite drink is Maltavia, the closest Galra equivalent to tequila, knows Keith likes the smell after a heavy rain and the feeling of a just rising sun on his face. He’s never seen his face before, but he has heard him laugh a handful of times. He knows Keith and dare he say that he knows Shiro in return.

To finally put a name and a face to that voice though is almost as jaw dropping as Krolia’s revelation of having a child. Not once had she mentioned a family to him and considering she’s been undercover deep within the empire for over 20 decaphoebs, Shiro had just assumed. And looking at Keith, taking in the young, youthful look of his face, there’s no way he’s older than Shiro himself is, has to be right at if not a little younger than him.

And isn’t that a thought in and of itself? All these years Shiro had had time to imagine what his companion looked like. The voice on the other end would speak of missions long ago and heavy, intense training sessions with fellow Blades. No mentions of friends or partners. They only spoke of experience and time and as such, Shiro thought them to be older. Perhaps along Ulaz and Thace’s age. But if Keith had been around since right before Krolia hid within the empires ranks, it makes sense his childhood would be one wracked with war and fights. He doesn’t know enough to call the man a child soldier but from what Shiro knows of Galra culture, it’s not exactly a far off concept, or even one that would be frowned upon.

Keith is looking up at him (god he’s so _short_ , barely reaching Krolia’s chin), eyes peeking through his fringe and Shiro swallows thickly.

“Commander. It’s . . . nice to finally meet you. Officially.” His grip on Keith’s hand tightens for just a moment and oh god he’s still holding his hand! He drops it hastily, blushing at the hint of a smirk on Keith’s purple patched face. His ears, pointed and fuzzy like a cats and not at all like Krolia’s own smooth, flat ones, twitch with amusement. Shiro represses both a squeak and the urge to touch them.

_The Galra are not cats, Takashi_ he reminds himself firmly. Keith would surely not appreciate a strange man touching his ears out of nowhere for no reason other than to coo at them. Absolutely not.

“Likewise.” He says in turn, voice honey smooth and Shiro swallows again, feeling extremely uneven with himself.

He knows Keith, knows this man probably better than any of their other allies, but seeing him now, hearing him, is like the first time he flew into space. Exhilarating and terrifying at once. Shiro had physically felt his life change for ever that first trip and just like then, he feels it now looking at the man before him.

Keith’s eyes don’t leave his even when Krolia takes a step forward. She doesn’t say anything about Shiro’s clear attraction to her son, apparently more forgiving than the before mentioned latter, just smiles that same proud smile he now recognizes as the typically proud mom look. It sends a shiver of warmth and longing up his side that he tries to ignore.

“Keith is the Blade that retrieved the information on the Altean colony, Shiro. It’s because of him I was able to reach you all in time before.” Before. Such a heavy word when so much has happened since then.

It’s a revelation though, like the whole day has been, and so he feels overwhelmed with it. All he can manage is a crooked smile towards Keith, much too wobbly for his face.

“Then I have a lot more to thank you for than I realized.” And he did. The Altean colony had changed everything for them, for Allura and Coran. It’s mere existence had sparked a fire of passion, knowledge, and drive in everyone. If Keith was indeed the blade to make the report then he was likely also the one that went back to retrieve many of the colonizers, allowing some to survive and escape Honerva’s manipulation and brutality before it could start. Keith was the reason they had Romelle and a whole village full of Alteans now, people that helped in the fight against the witch and brought a sense of peace and closure with them when it was all over.

He was a hero, impossibly brilliant, and Shiro was immediately charmed. Though with all those years of communication, how could he not already be?

Keith shakes his head, his long bangs being swayed aside to reveal a smooth patch of paleness around his crown. “No need, Commander. It’s my job.” And he says it like it really is that simple, like for him saving the universe and preventing the genocide of a whole species was just another part of his every day job requirements.

He falls a little harder, heart beating loud and heavy in his ears.

Shiro is screwed, so very royally screwed.

  
  


It doesn’t take long for them to get back into step, if that’s what one would call it.

They’ve been here before, after all. There’s no need for awkward short talk and polite chatter between meetings. Keith and he have known each other for years. It takes a few missteps and awkward fumbles but not long after the Blades arrival, Shiro is meeting up with him for breakfast in the canteen and weekend trips to the desert. Keith likes the outdoors he learns and to be able to show him his late father’s desert on their hikes feels like a privilege. 

It helps, perhaps, that the others are also familiar with Keith. Matt, apparently, has directly worked with him through the rebels and he’s comfortable allowing the human in his space, pulling his tail and pinching his ears like an annoying brother. As a result, Pidge shoves her way into his space too, not at all bothered in shoving her feet in his lap when they all get together in the lounge. Fortunately (for who, he doesn’t know) Keith just purrs and rubs her feet.

Allura is also quick to warm up to him, the two of them bonding in the training room surprisingly. Apparently, as the story goes, she had been practicing with her whip against one of the new droids when Keith had walked in and immediately asked to learn. Naturally, the princess agreed in exchange for her own lessons with the sword. Altean training required everyone to know weaponry and the basics of wielding them all but she’s not as distinguished in it as she would like and it’s painfully clear that’s where Keith’s specialties lie.

It takes one visit to the gym when such lessons are taking place for Shiro to decide he’s never going to come back. Him and Lance had both gone “for moral support” that had them quickly stopping in their tracks. They watched as the two took on a team of drones together. Keith had snapped his whip out, a glowing blue one borrowed from Allura, and quickly wrapped it around the waist of the robot, before jerking his hand back so hard that it flung the thing back towards them, where Allura cleanly sliced it’s head off with Keith’s marmoran blade.

Watching the two of them murder robots gleefully had been both extremely attractive and terrifying and thus, neither ever came back.

It takes Keith awhile to warm up to Lance, as they have quite contrasting personalities. Where Keith runs hot and fast, quiet in almost everything he does, Lance is slow and loud. He tries what Pidge does first, but instead of just accepting it like he had with her, Keith nips at his fingers and whacks him with his tail, hissing with bared fangs, ears pulled back in displeasure. There’s a memorable time when Lance had accidentally stepped on his tail only to receive a quick swipe of claws to his face. It’s a long week of glares and snappy comments before one day, the two randomly walk into lunch together shoving shoulders and laughing obnoxiously. Lance is sporting a black eye and several bruises, Keith clean and not a single scratch evident, but whatever the story there is, neither of them confess.

It just becomes a thing and soon, Keith has two annoying brothers.

Hunk, unlike Lance, didn’t have to try very hard and had actually bonded with Keith through Romelle, who Shiro quickly notes as Keith’s closest friend.

Romelle, it seems, has an interest in baking and had gone to Hunk for tips. She had dragged Keith along simply just because she could and the half-galra hadn’t put up much of a fight. What resulted was somehow all three of them making perfect batches of muffins that Shiro still salivates just thinking about.

It’s not a strange occurrence to see any of them together in the kitchen after that.

Shiro is grateful for the easy air between Keith and his team as it allows him more time with the man. Keith often joins them for meals and random training sessions, fitting easily in the space around them as if he had always belonged. Him and Allura make a formable team against anyone and watching Pidge and Keith attack a fitzing drone in less than a second like feral alley cats had been terrifying. 

Keith quickly becomes one of them, fitting in like he’s always been there, and for Shiro he always has, a comforting voice from nearly the beginning.

It’s not just through the others that he gets to see this new side of his friend though, but also through the man himself.

With the war over and there being no active mission at hand, Keith is given the luxury to just relax. The energy is still there, evident by his frequent logs to the gym, but it’s not the pressing forefront of his day.

He takes to the library and the courtyard outside, often visiting for hours on end. Shiro knows Keith has been browsing all the books in an attempt to learn more about his father’s planet and his own home world. It’s a soft sight to peak in and see the boy frowning intently at an aerospace book and making little notes in his notebook beside him, likely criticizing what Shiro now knows they were wrong about.

Seeing him outside is another thing entirely.

It’s warming up out, with spring right around the corner, and since the Galra run hot naturally, Keith goes out dressed like it’s peak summer. Shiro doesn’t know who took him shopping but he wants to thank and strangle them for all the tank tops and booty shorts he now gets to see nearly every day.

The shorts have even been modified so Keith’s tail sticks out through a hole near his literal tailbone, the sight making him want to touch it even more.

He also forgoes shoes, something Shiro finds oddly endearing as he recalls many nights of Keith ranting about the restrictiveness of them and how uncomfortable they are. If he could, Shiro knows, Keith would go everywhere barefoot, purple toes peeking out.

Outside, he brings Kosmo and they roughhouse for hours on end, neither getting tired, though it has Lance whining in exhaustion just seeing it. Kosmo doesn’t like fetch at all but wrestling is clearly a favorite. It shouldn’t be hot to watch him lift his horse sized wolf like it’s nothing and yet it is.

That’s just the first two weeks though and as they meet up on the roof and watch the stars, Shiro feels himself fall a little more and more.

Maybe it’s the easy way Keith has slotted himself in Shiro’s life, both this time and the first one. Or maybe it’s how right he feels by his side, by his team. Whatever it is, Keith carries the air of family, similar in the way he felt when meeting the Holt’s the first time. It’s easy to look at him and see the universe, the stars in his hair, and it’s easy to have his sight narrow more on his until Keith is Shiro’s sun, the thing that gets him up every morning.

He likes having breakfast with him, watching Keith puzzle his way through eggs and scarf down bacon eagerly, and he likes the way his nose wrinkles at the taste of teas and coffees. He wants a lifetime of watching him discover things, a lifetime of simply having him around, alive and free.

Maybe it’s that realization though that really screws him over and as he watches Keith bite at a bubble, Hunk showing him and Romelle and Allura the fine art of blowing bubbles, he doesn’t find that minds at all.

  
  


For what feels like the next month, Shiro is an absolute mess every time he sees Keith.

Which is every day.

Outside of hanging out with the paladins, Keith often accompanies Kolivan and Krolia to meetings, as Shiro learns the first day that Keith is actually a high ranking officer hence the title of Captain. Titles are apparently not something the Blades give everyone, as Keith’s rank and uniform speak for themselves. He sits himself next to his mother (and isn’t that still a shock to think about?), face serious and flat as he takes everything in.He doesn’t speak up much, leaving his leaders to most of it, but every now and then he’ll answer when something like the humanitarian efforts or what pockets of space are particularly still in active fighting are brought up. Every time his voice cracks through the room, Shiro blushes and once even knocks over his glass, much to his embarrassment. He ignores the paladins knowing snickers.

Shiro learns where Keith’s been all these past few years in those meetings though. Outside of them, Keith doesn’t mention work a lot, perhaps trying to savor his somewhat vacation. But Shiro is glad to learn the blade has been in deep space with the generals and various others, providing aid to civilizations in both the form of bruised knuckles and sharp blades and crates of food and medicine.

He’s literally perfect and Shiro thinks if this were a book, Keith would be on the cover of a trashy romance novel Shiro pretends he doesn’t read, shirtless and hair blowing in the wind.

Outside of those meetings, Keith seems to find him everywhere, burrowing himself more and more into Shiro’s life, his space, and his heart. Shiro doesn’t mind though, despite his nerves, because Keith is his friend and he’s genuinely missed talking to him. The proximity has reawakened his crush with a vengeance but the happy pull in his chest has him ignoring it with a vigor, just as eager to seek the galra out now as he had before with his calls. The only difference is that now Shiro doesn’t have to imagine Keith’s nods and smiles in his head. He can see them.

Keith sits with him at lunch a lot, sometimes bringing his whole team with him as the generals seem to stick by his side alone and none of the other blades. There’s a story there, one that Shiro desperately wants to ask about, but tables it for another day. Right now is a time for bumping elbows with Keith and stammering over his replies.

He meets him in the library sometimes too. Keith’s liked that place since the beginning but as they settle in, his visits increase until he’s almost a permanent resident. Shiro doesn’t go there a lot, as he doesn’t have a need for it nor the time, but every time he does visit, the other is there. Keith seems to grow fond of the deep blue chair by the window, bathing in the sunlight as he flips through a book. It’s always a new one every time Shiro visits (and if he starts to visit more often than before that’s between him and the knowing smirk of the librarian).

Keith reads a lot about earth when he’s there, shyly admitting to Shiro one day that his father had been human and that he’s never been here before, has never known much about this strange planet he was actually born on. Learning about it makes him feel closer to the man, the only connection he has to it outside of stories as Shiro learns Keith’s father had died not many months after his birth in a fire. A stranger to him, but one who’s face Keith desperately wants to recognize in his books and travels.

After that revelation, Shiro starts taking Keith to the desert, where they find his dad’s old shack, the only remainder of the man’s home left, and Shiro guides Keith around the canyons and caves of his could have been childhood.

Every day, Shiro feels himself fall more and more in love.

After one particularly terrible lunch, where Keith had shown up in his workout clothes, red and sweaty and panting out his apologies, resulting in Shiro, who had been walking up to sit down, tripping over his own feet and dropping his tray and hitting his head on the edge of the table, his friends had had enough of his bullshit.

  
  


It’s three days after The Incident when it’s finally mentioned.

They are all sitting in the Garrison’s officer lounge, legs and arms draped over cushions and too firm chairs. They’ve had a long day of meetings, all of them, but as most of the dignitaries and their entourages are arriving, today was their final work day for the week until the party.

Right now finds them in their well deserved peace. Hunk is snacking on a plate of crackers, dipping them into a pink sauce Shiro doesn’t even want to ask about, and Pidge is next to him, her feet under his thigh and laptop in her hands. She’s typing away furiously, no doubt working on another project already as she steadily ignores all of them. Lance and Allura are curled up together on the opposite end of the couch from him, limbs in a messy mix of black linen. A blanket is thrown over their shoulders, though most of it seems to be on Allura’s side. She’s playing on her datapad, little dings echoing now and then to indicate another successful level passed. Matt has got her into all the little app games lately and she can’t seem to get enough of them, always playing one when there’s nothing better to do or nowhere to be.

Lance, however, is staring right at him and before Shiro can think of a reason or response, Lance does it for him.

“So are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” He says loudly, voice crushing the silence as the others look up at him.

Hunk chews loudly, mouth open. “What elephant?”

Lance snorts inelegantly and Allura shushes him, sneaking a look back down at her phone. “Shiro’s massive crush obviously.”

Oh. Oh fuck.

Instantly everyone is looking and actually paying attention now. Even Pidge has stopped her finger strokes, looking at Lance hard before turning her narrowed stare to him. He fidgets where he’s sitting and a familiar Holt smirk rises to her face.

“I was wondering when you’d realize it.” She says simply, tone far too casual and clearly at odds with the smirk. Shiro blinks and frowns, mouth opening and closing a few times before he figures out what to say.

“What do you mean?” He says and no that’s not quite what he wants to say but it’ll do. He scratches at his jaw, ignoring Lance who gives another snort like Shiro’s life is particularly funny today.

Pidge also looks unimpressed, stare flat and bored. “You and Keith would literally talk for hours at night. You pushed off training once just to gossip about Kolivan and Antok.”

Hunk raises a hand, drawing Shiro’s attention, and lightly waves it around like he’s saying hello. “Not to mention you sent him updates every week in space as if it had been required.”  
His frown settles more on his face. “As our allies, the Blades should know what’s going on and be in the loop. Kolivan _had_ requested it ”   
Hunk easily nods in return with a shrug. “Yeah sure but you didn’t have to text and vidchat Keith every other day, even when Kolivan was literally there with us.”

“You’re always smiling at your phone, dude.” Lance pipes up with a click of his tongue. Clearly he has forgotten his place with how lovesick the boy is for Allura and Shiro will gladly be reminding him of this later.

Right now he has to deal with this.

Despite Lance’s tease though he still blushes because it’s true. Shiro does send Keith a lot of messages, most starting as simple “In room 108 with Iverson.” and quickly devolving into him and Keith trading pics of all the cute creatures they saw recently. Shiro has been acquainted with a ulirox just last week, which apparently is like a bunny but with the ferocity of a tiger. In turn, Keith gets to coo at many, _many_ cat pics. He seems to be particularly fond of Lieutenant Jones’s white maine coon Harley.

There’s no sense in denying Lance and Hunk’s claims though, not when everyone in the room clearly knows it’s true, so he just looks away at the door.

“Keith and I are just friends.” He says.

“You can be more though, if you want.” Allura tells him gently. He meets her soft smile, an understanding tilt to her face. Taking a glance at where her hand is loosely knitted with Lance’s atop their thighs, he finds himself being far more honest than he usually would be.

“I don’t know how to start.” Shiro confesses and it’s pitifully true. It’s been years since he’s dated, not since he and Adam broke up before the Kerberos mission launched, and even then Adam had done most of the leg work with asking Shiro out on dates and kissing his cheeks. Before that even Shiro had been hopelessly lost, sending awkward smiles to all his crushes and stuttering over both his words and his feet whenever they so much as looked in his direction.

Talking with Keith on the phone was easy. He never saw his face, could never watch the curve of his lips or the light in his eyes. There was nobody there to distract him or hair to tease. It was Keith’s voice alone and something about the liquor rich tone made it easy. He calmed Shiro, voice soft and quiet and soothing his nerves and fears. Keith made it all so simple but seeing him now? There’s still the easy flow of their friendship and he;s getting better but . . . .  
Well, Shiro knows how he is.

Lance straightens up in his seat, drawing his knees together as he leans forward until he’s almost in Shiro’s personal space. A cheshire cat grin stretches his mouth and his eyes seem to twinkle with mischief. A shiver runs over him at the sight.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got an idea.”

  
  


Lance’s idea, it turns out, is Valentine’s Day.

The day itself isn’t until a few days before the party and after asking some pointed questions around, the team learns Keith will be stationed on earth for the rest of the month to assist Romelle and Allura in some kind of project no one wants to talk about. However, the week leading up to it, this week, is more than enough time, as Lance says, to seduce himself a galra.

Lance bombards him in the cafeteria, slamming his tray down onto the table, drawing the eyes of all the paladins. The generals (he should really stop calling them that) are several tables away, in the corner, and Keith is not with them.

Lance leans forward, elbows on the table top, and shoots Shiro a pointed look like he knows exactly what was up. “I talked to Acxa about Galra courting customs.” 

He chokes on the sandwich he had been biting into, loudly coughing as he stares, wide eyed, at the blue paladin. “You _what_?”

“Talked to Acxa.” Lance repeats, looking not at all bothered. “She was extremely unhelpful and very prickly so I then talked to Ezor, who, by the way, is the best.”

Pidge sighs forlornly into her soup.

“Anyway.” He waves a hand. “Ezor said galra put a lot of emphasis on gifts and food, seeing it as a way to showcase your skills, so really it’s not so different from humans.”

“That explanation feels lacking.” Hunk remarks into his pasta, looking down at it like it holds all the answers to the universe. Lance elbows him for it.

“It’s true!” He promises, looking back at Shiro, who is still in a state of shock because oh gosh Lance had been serious? “And what better time to ask him out than now? You have literally everything going for you.”  
“I have nothing going for me.” Shiro counters, mouth forming the words numbly. Lance continues as if he didn’t hear him.

“We’re going to help you, man, so don’t worry about a thing.”

What follows is, quite simply, the worst idea ever.

  
  


The first step in Get Shiro A Man is flowers.

Pidge had pulled him from his last meeting thirty minutes ago, her tiny hands yanking him from the tight clutches of bureaucratic hogs and pulling him down the halls until they reached her mother’s greenhouse.

Pidge had tugged him in, immediately abandoning him to disappear into the many rows and sections of plants. Truth be told, he hasn’t been in here much. The last night he can remember standing in this room was when they were going over Sendak’s file before the battle for earth. As that’s not at all what he wants to think about when apparently courting his friend, he pointedly ignores the callback and stares way too intently at what looks, to him, like a normal bush.

He’s still staring at said bush when Pidge returns, a giant bouquet of flowers in her hand. They’re exactly the kind Shiro feared and dreaded, as their the traditional bunch of fresh red roses with baby breaths and green plumage, even neatly tied together with a red ribbon dotted with tiny hearts. It’s terribly cliche but he kind of loves it.

Still, he blushes and tries to give it back after she practically shoves it into his shaking hands.

“Are these really necessary?” He asks and he can hear the slight wine to his voice. She must hear it too because she glares at him, looking entirely too much like Colleen.

“Yes.” She snaps. “Now go give them to him.”  
His eyes widened. “Right now?” Shiro had thought, at the very least, he would have time to think about it, to plan out what he was going to do and say, but Pidge cuts that hope immediately when she gives a sharp nod.

“Yes. Less time for you to panic and chicken out.”  
Okay. That’s fair.

Keith, it turns out, is in the library, though this time he’s not alone.

He's sitting at one of the tables now, an art book open before him though he doesn’t seem very focused on it as he talks to Romelle, who sits in the chair across from him. They both have clear coffee cups in front of them, a pink drink swirling in Romelle’s and some kind of iced coffee in Keith’s. A magazine is open in front of her, bright pictures popping even from this distance.

Several heads turn as he walks towards them, valiantly trying to fight the urge to turn around and hide, to retreat. He is on a mission damn it and he never fails those.

Shiro doesn’t know Romelle very well, as she’s understandably much closer to Allura and Coran. Even during their ride back to earth, the blonde altean had never rode with him in Black and by the time they reached earth, she was a rare sight to see. Still, he knows her and Keith are close thanks to him being the one to find her hidden away in the abyss. They’re like siblings, the two of them constantly seen together, and when she lifts her gaze to look at him once he’s close enough to catch their attention, her eyes light up at the flowers. Her pink lipstick painted teeth pull up into a wide grin and she bites them to hide it as Keith turns too, a confused tilt to his eyebrows.

“Shiro?” He calls, purple and pale nose scrunching up cutely.

He thrusts the flowers forward, practically shoving them into Keith’s face. “These are for you!” He says, voice way too high and loud and the blush staining his cheeks darkens. A giggle sounds out from somewhere.

Keith sneezes but takes a cautious hold of the flowers, like he can’t make sense of them.

“Thank you?” he says.

Shiro nods once and quickly turns on his heel and exits the library.

That went well.

  
  


After the disaster with the flowers, Pidge had declared him hopeless but he was soon rescued by an understanding and ever patient Hunk, who quickly and soothingly informed Shiro he was to ask Keith out to dinner.

“Every relationship forms over food. It’s important and romantic and like a requirement for Valentine’s Day dates anyway.” Hunk tells him as they knead bread. They’re in the kitchen, Shiro watching as Hunk makes some buns for fun while he just sits on a stool, having been gently told to stay out of the way.

Dinner, Shiro thinks, he can do dinner.

They’re a lot easier than flowers, even though Shiro knows Keith had kept them and put them in a vase. Save a single rose that is, which he had shown up to a meeting the following morning wearing in his hair, the stem tucked behind his ear and the dark red petals framing the side of his face.

But dinner? Shiro doesn’t have to explain that away. He and Keith have gone out to eat together a number of times, often visiting the little sandwich shack and cafe in town on weekdays they both have free.

So Shiro doesn’t argue when Hunk tells him he’ll set everything up, though he does falter a bit when Hunk mentions making reservations.

“Reservations?” He asks slowly because honestly? He’s dreading the answer.

Hunk, who’s still roughly kneading the bread, gives a distracted nod, not even turning to look at him. “Yep. For that new place on Ferris Street. Gotta impress your boy.”  
Shiro is at a loss. For one, Keith is not his boy. Yet. Maybe ever.

Two, he’s pretty sure some fancy, high class dining isn’t something for Keith or him. Shiro hasn’t stepped foot in anything above an indie coffee shop since before the Kerberos mission, when he was still rubbing elbows and trying to convince people for more funding with a “Look at our pilot, isn’t he cute?” and a perfectly timed smile.

Adam had liked those places though, had liked dressing up and drinking overly priced wine that wasn’t even that good. He had almost expected it, Shiro thinks, since for him, he had been entering places like that his whole childhood. Being the son of a senator would do that for you though.

But Keith is not Adam. He’s not carefully worded discussions or thin pressed smiles or fancy tablecloths. Keith likes tequila and a good roughing up outside. He likes the quiet yes but Shiro can imagine him in a rowdy pub far more than he can at whatever the heck Hunk’s sending them.

Still. It’s worth a shot.

Shiro meets Keith at the restaurant, per their agreement. Something’s been lost in translation though because where Shiro is dressed in a suit, black silk tie rubbing against the sensitive skin of his neck, Keith is wearing his blade uniform. Shiro can even see his blade in its extended form down the length of his leg.

He’s wearing his hair down today though in a fairly loose beech braid so he counts that as a win.

“Shall we go in?” He offers Keith his arm and he takes it, making a silent thrill go up his arm and across his tongue.

Keith doesn’t seem to notice the looks they’re getting when they walk in or the clearly snubbed look of their host when he gives them a distasteful glance down. Doesn’t notice or doesn’t care anyway, as with the blade it’s a fifty-fifty shot.

“Shirogane.” Shiro tells the man, sweat beading around his tie already, and beside him Keith sneezes daintily. The hosts lips pull back in a sneer and before Keith’s hand can move to his sword, he’s grabbing a set of menus and walking off.

He tugs Keith along and breathes a heavy sigh of relief when they’re finally seated. The eyes on them are less heavy over here, what with everyone being significantly more focused on their meals, and when a waitress approaches them to get their drink orders, Shiro cooly lists the wine Hunk recommended and some water for the both of them.

The waitress walks off and he nervously turns back to Keith (his _date_ ).

_You can do this, Shiro_ , he tells himself. _It’s just dinner. You’ve done this before._

They have, but not like this.

“What do you think?” He asks and Keith looks around.

He squints at the dessert on the table closest to them. “It’s . . . nice. Really nice.”  
Shiro swallows and nods. “Hunk recommended it.” He tells him. Keith gives a little nod and picks at the tablecloth, claw accidentally tugging a hole into it.

His voice is small. “I’m sure it’s excellent then.”

God Shiro hopes so because he hates this place already.

When the waitress comes around next, Shiro orders for the both of them and soon it comes out. Their plates are set on the table before them and Keith leans over his own as he looks at it with wide eyes like that of a child.

“What’s this?” He asks, blinking owlishly.

Shiro smiles, a warmth spreading as he watches him pick up his fork. “It’s steak. I know the galra are primarily carnivores so figured you’d prefer it over something like carbonara.” 

Keith scoots forward in his seat, the legs of his chair dragging loudly in the relative quiet of the room. He notices the looks sent their way this time and a dark blush streaks his cheeks. He ducks his head and his ears point down close to his head, eyes wide as they look quickly at Shiro before darting away and back again.

He ignores everyone else though. Screw what they think. So what if they’re not the typical guests? If this isn’t a place the two of them are clearly accustomed to?

“What are you eating?” The half galra asks, voice quiet and shy. Some of his bangs have fallen out of his braid, escaping the bobby pins, and fallen into his face, shielding him.

Shiro takes one glance at his plate of tiny noodles and thin creamy sauce and Keith’s hunched over form before he sets his utensils back down and pushes his chair back, his scraping much, much louder than Keith’s has.

“You know what?” He stands and Keith tilts his head but follows the movement. “You wanna go somewhere else?” He holds his hand out, palm up.  
He looks around before nodding once, reaching out to grab the offered hand. Shiro swiftly guides him out the door, past all the nosy humans, and takes him where he should have in the first place.

Bee Bops.

The diner is a special place to Shiro, bringing back memories of long study sessions for the garrison and loud laughter over sticky milkshakes. It had been run by an older woman everyone affectionately called Ma and thinks about all the free trays of fries she slid him and how she always fussed over his hair every time he came in.

Ma had died in the invasion of Sendak’s ships, long before they could ever put her in a camp, and he feels the ache of her absence when the bell dings above their heads as he pulls Keith in behind him. A young black girl runs the place now and she throws them a wave as they enter, dark hair bobbing in its place atop her head as dances with the music.

They take their own seats, not needing to be seated, and he grabs a set of menus from the cool silver rack between them, wordlessly sliding one to Keith, who blinks at it but opens it up anyway and begins to look.

As Shiro pretends to look at the menu that hasn’t changed all these years, he casually starts talking.

“I used to come here a lot when I was younger.” He taps the dessert menu. “Best shakes around. I bet I came every Friday after classes since joining the Garrison.”  
Keith’s not even looking at his menu anymore and so he forgoes looking too to meet his dark gaze. Blue eyes bore into his face and one ear twitches.

“You like it that much?” He asks and Shiro shrugs.

“The people are nice,” He smiles in the girls direction, not knowing her name but seeing her mother clearly in her face and movements “I didn’t have a lot of friends when I was younger so I kind of came here for pretty much anything. Studying, to eat, needed a break, just wanted to vent to Ma. You name it.”

Keith nods like he understands but the way he’s biting his bottom lip betrays that. Still, he pushes on like it doesn’t matter. “I always went to the training room when I felt . . . small.” He frowns, like that’s not the right word. “I was the only kit on the base so I didn’t have any friends either. Mom was on assignment before I was five so Kolivan and Antok pretty much raised me.”  
He looks away, and Shiro doesn’t say anything. Keith doesn’t talk about Krolia a lot, save the happy smiles and laughs he gives when she’s around. Still, Shiro had friends whose parents were away for the military all the time. It takes a toll, no matter how shameful it feels for them to admit it.

“Beating the training bots and getting stronger felt a hell of a lot better than moping around by myself.” Keith admits quietly and Shiro reaches out before he can stop himself and gently grips his hand, fingers slotting together like it’s natural. And it is so easy.

He smiles, something light in his chest as he does. “Well we’re not alone anymore.”

Keith returns it, giving his hand a squeeze, and he doesn’t know if its the tacky red lighting above them or what but for a moment, he swears he sees a blush.

Maybe the night isn’t so bad after all.

  
  
  


Shiro declares dinner a disaster, despite managing to save it with the trip to the diner. He and Keith had stayed there for hours, right up to closing time, just talking and trading stories of their childhood. It felt good to talk about his grandfather, he had realized. Like a weight lifting he didn’t even know was there. It felt good to share, when so few people knew about the man and it felt so wrong to speak of him, like he was a secret Shiro alone had to carry.

Hunk is a bit disappointed to hear they left though, but he is quick to curse when Shiro tells him about it.

Allura and Lance “help” him next, reminding him that gift giving is important in galra courting and that if Shiro really wants Keith to know he’s serious, he should be working on that and _now_.

They take him to the mall, where he has to talk them out of making him buy fancy jewels and expensive colognes. Keith is not like everyone else. Perfumes would be too sharp for his nose, first of all, and what would he even do with a giant crystal? Honestly.

He still leaves the mall with something though, pleased with his purchase, and Lance makes them take another stop to a grocery store to pick up what he calls “essentials” that has Allura giggling into his shoulder.

He hands the wrapped gift to Keith over lunch.

It’s just the two of them today, fortunately, and no one around seems to notice anything out of the norm as he feels no one looking at them for once.

The rest of the paladins are split between various tasks, Pidge and Hunk stuck working in the lab and Allura had dragged Lance to a meeting with her. He doesn’t know where the generals are but he had seen them hanging out with Veronica and the MFE’s yesterday so if he had to guess.

He’s grateful for the privacy though, especially when Keith grips ahold of the present like it’s a dangerous snake. He eyes it with clear suspicion, a lone purple eyebrow lifted in question.

Shiro chuckles. “It’s a present.” He tells him the obvious and Keith just frowns harder, squinting at it.

“What for?”  
He swallows but doesn’t break eye contact. “Just because.”   
He still looks suspicious, like he suspects Shiro of pranking him, but nods anyway and begins to tear at the wrapping paper. It’s a frilly thing, a light shade of pink dotted with tiny black hearts that had had him hitting Lance with the roll of it when he had thrown it in their basket at the store. The half galra doesn’t seem to take notice of it though as he just tears it back with his claws, the nails ripping through the thin paper easily.

Underneath it is a plain white box and Keith carefully lifts the top of it off, throwing it to the side of their trays with a dismissive sniff. He pulls back the tissue paper Allura had insisted on to reveal a sweater.

It’s thick and black and easily two times Keith’s size (it’s actually Shiro’s size but no one has to look into that) and Keith lights up at the sight of it, lifting the sweater up to rub against his cheek. He bites back a grin, bright just watching him enjoy it.

Allura and Lance had told him a sweater would be a stupid gift, something trivial and not at all like Keith. But Shiro knew his friend liked soft things, liked the way they felt against his thin fur, and constantly sought after them. He had walked in on Keith snuggling under a fuzzy blanket a number of times in the lounge and he swears that he and Romelle share pajama pants.

Keith pulls the sweater back from his face, grinning with his fangs bared. “Can I put it on?” He asks and Shiro nods, chuckling.

“It _is_ yours, Kei.”

Immediately he is standing, pushing himself over the bench and up to his feet. He pulls the sweater over his head, fuzzy ears popping out the other side and his hair a mess now. It falls to the middle of his thigh, not at all blending in with the dark material of his blade uniform. He lifts the edges, toying with them, before he drops them to inspect the sleeves that ride past his fingertips. He joyfully waves them around, flapping them at Shiro, and they share a laugh.

Before he knows it he has a lap of galra. Keith is nuzzling his throat, a purr running a steady hum against him as he cheerfully thanks him.

“It’s the best gift I’ve ever been given, Shiro!”

Shiro tries not to combust on the spot. Everywhere Keith’s body is pressed up against his burns hot. Like a match has been lit inside him, he aches for more.

“I’ve never been given a gift before.” Keith confesses, voice low and hoarse and Shiro swallows thickly.

The Galra do not celebrate birthdays, Shiro knows, and he knows of no holidays for them either. To think, Keith had gone his whole life without receiving something, even something as little as a sweater, makes him want to tear up. Even here, he has to act like it’s not welling up.

“Well,” He starts, voice muffled a bit by Keith’s hair. “I’ll get you as many as you deserve.”  
Keith hums, part song and part purr, and snuggles a bit closer and the ache inside him shifts to something different, something less intense but just as deep.

He really wants to hold that promise.

Two days later, Keith shows up to dinner in red leggings and the sweater, hair up in a high messy bun, and Shiro almost runs into a wall at how cute he is.

Keith, who thankfully did not see that, gives him a wide wave and bounces on his toes, tailing swaying behind him as Shiro waves back.

Okay so maybe the sweater backfired a little bit.

  
  


Shiro buys a box of chocolates after Matt encourages him to. To be fair, perhaps his friend was just trying to sell the overly priced boxes for his cousin, who was trying to raise money, but Shiro buys one anyway after imagining the blissed out face Keith will wear when he tries them for the first time.

Chocolate, he has found, is a rarity up in space and through all their years up there, he never once found anything even remotely similar. There had been the fruit on Olkarion of course but that had been a bit too bitter, even for Hunk who adored dark chocolate. Because of the lack of it though, Shiro is convinced Keith’s never had it, unless someone has given it to him on earth already, and he buys a bigger box with a hopeful heart.

The box itself is remarkably ugly. It’s heart shaped, as most things are these days, and a dark red that reminds Shiro of blood more than anything else. The wrapping isn’t done very well, the lid constantly falling off as he walks down the halls, and so he has to rest a hand on it to keep it steady.

No one bats an eye at him as he goes. It’s close enough to Valentine’s Day that the sight isn’t all that unusual. A bit early but not odd. No one stops to chat with him either or teasingly rub him, so he makes it outside fairly quickly.

In the courtyard, Keith is playing frisbee with Kosmo. His hair is down entirely in loose, thick waves that curl around his face in a myriad of colors, grinning as Kosmo brings the yellow frisbee back, drooling and his tongue lagging. Keith laughs and bends down in a clean crouch, purple tail flicking at Kosmo’s ears as he kisses his snout and grabs the disc.Straightening back up, he flicks his thin wrist with a snap and watches as Kosmo runs off to find it.

Shiro slides his own sunglasses down as the sun beats down brightly at them and sides on up against the blade, who is shielding his own eyes. Keith must have seen him come up because he doesn’t move when he gets there nor does he say anything, just claps his hands when Kosmo picks up the disc and drops it again in his haste to return it.

Honestly, Shiro is just impressed the wolf is even playing fetch for once. He’s notorious for giving up quickly and not bothering half the time. Keith’s delight is contagious and warranted and Shiro laughs himself when Kosmo, once again, drops the disc and huffs at it before teleporting back to them, frisbee on the grass by his feet still.

Beside him, Keith snorts inelegantly and bends to retrieve it, ruffling a hand over Kosmo’s ears fondly. Despite all his huffing and griping about the game, Shiro knows he doesn’t actually mind Kosmo’s cheating, finds it almost amusing even.

As Keith throws the frisbee once more, Shiro leans into his space and presses their shoulders together.

“Got you somethin’.” He tells him, wiggling his eyebrows. Shiro must be on par with Kosmo though because he gets the same snort back at him.

“You humans and your gifts.” He says, rolling his eyes. Still, he’s smiling as he does it so Shiro pulls the box out in front of him anyway.

Wordlessly, he hands it over and the galra grabs it, claws digging a bit too roughly into the side of it and the lid just slides off onto the ground and rests pathetically at their feet. Keith blinks at it and Shiro gives him a shrug when he looks at him. He’s surprised he even still has the damn thing.

Peering over the chocolates, Keith frowns and even when Kosmo returns, tail wagging as he naws on the found frisbee once again, his face remains the same.

“Shiro,” he starts slowly, looking up at him with a narrowed gaze.

He shifts from one foot to another. “Yeah?”  
Keith coughs. “Have-Have I offend you?”   
“What?”

Keith clears his throat again and nods towards the chocolates. “If this is an assasination attempt you’re doing a poor job.”  
“What?!” He yells, taking a step back. “Keith-I! It’s chocolate? You know, chocolate?” He repeats the word like that’ll help and Keith blinks at him, still frowning and looking deeply unimpressed.

“I know what chocolate is, Shiro.” Keith tells him flatly. “Are you aware this is a common poison to galra?”  
Honestly what the fuck. Shiro says as much aloud and Keith snorts again, this one more amused than the last despite the fact Shiro has apparently just tried to kill him.

“Chocolate makes us very sick.” Keith says, spinning the box around and looking at the chocolates with curiosity. “I only ever get really nausea and some heavy cramps but I saw a guy who had eaten enough slip into a coma.”  
Shiro shakes his head and waves his hands out in front of him, baffled that this could go so wrong, so quickly. “Keith, I swear I wasn’t trying to kill you! Humans love chocolate, it’s like our favorite sweet. I just thought you’d like to try some is all.” He looks down. “Guess not though.”   
Keith grabs his hand and Shiro looks up sharply to catch his soft smile, eyes softer. “No, I’m afraid not. But if you wanted to share, Ezor has some sweets I could swipe.”   
He laughs, feeling remarkably better with Keith’s hand in his own, the feeling clouding his head like cotton. “I wouldn’t want you to get murdered over gummies.”   
His lip twitches. “Perhaps not.” He hands Shiro the box of chocolate back. “I wouldn’t try to give those to Kolivan either.” Keith tells him, absolutely sporting a teasing grin now and Shiro laughs, partly in embarrassment.

  
  


Despite ticking off all the requirements on Lance’s list for courting a galra, Keith doesn’t seem to suspect a thing. He continues to act like usual, being friendly and warm with Shiro but not in a way he’s trying to encourage. Yesterday, he had declared Shiro the kindest friend he’s ever had and though it was sweet, it still missed the mark.

He thinks of the flowers, the sweater, and that terrible dinner date and decides the paladins don’t know a damn thing and goes where he should have gone in the first place.

Right to the source.

  
  


He throws himself into the vacant chair between them and all the galra generals look up with wicked, knowing grins.

Ezor in particular looks ready to devour him alive and he doesn’t flinch as he meets her stare head on.

“I need help courting Keith.”

Zethrid snorts and immediately slides Acxa a gac coin, who pockets it without comment.

Ezor spins in her seat and cheekily bats her lashes at him. “What do you need to know, Commander?” She purrs and the title comes out much differently through her than it does their Captain. With her, he feels like he’s making a deal with the devil.

“Courting rights. What am I doing wrong?” He bemoans and he allows himself to slump a little against the table. Keith has been at the base for almost two months now and Shiro is no closer in this endeavour now then he was when he first got here.

Acxa hums and takes a sip of her coke. “Nothing necessarily.”  
“It’s how you’re doing it.” Zethrid stakes, her loud deep voice filling the space between them.

He blinks. “What do you mean?”  
“Dinner, gifts, and flowers work, sure.” Ezor says, leaning back and allowing a more serious look to cross over her face. “But they’re not necessary and if you _do_ do them there’s an order to things.”

He nods, wanting them to go on.

“The gifts are traditionally first and they’re always small.” Acxa supplies, spine straightening as she does. “Something that makes you think of them like a rock or a weapon.”  
“A weapon?” He asks before he can stop himself.

Zethrid nods for her. “Galra are a warrior species. Battle is important to us and a weapon says a lot.”  
“What you pick out tells them what kind of fighter you require.” Ezor says. “And giving it to them shows your trust in their ability to defend and protect your pack.”

He nods understandably. “That makes sense. What else?”

“Sparring.” Ezor continues and beside her, Acxa nods solemnly. “Galra love nothing more than a good fight.” Shiro nods and mentally jots that down.  
“Then flowers. Plants. Balmeran crystals. Anything alive really.” Zethrid shrugs and Ezor snorts.

“The boring part.” She sings. “Then comes the hunting.”

“Hunting?”  
Acxa points her cup at him. “Traditionally, you hunt your own meat and prepare it for your mate to show them you can provide for the pack.”   
Shiro’s at a loss here. Hunting his own food? Preparing it? He can barely cook anything premade with a set of instructions much less make something from scratch straight from outside. He tells her as much and Ezor laughs at him, Zethrid’s much louder one nearly overriding it entirely.

Acxa’s lips are twitching when she continues and he feels like that the true testament of how hopeless he is when he’s got ever her laughing at him.

“It’s tradition but not common practice anymore, Commander.” She tells him and he doesn’t stop a sigh of relief leaving him.

Shiro’s an okay cook when it comes to crunch time and he’s desperate but he really, really would just rather not.

“Food is still important though.” Ezor butts in and she throws a cheeky grin to Zethrid, who plainly reaches over to squeeze Ezor’s thigh. “It’s our version of light flirting.”  
“Start small.” Acxa recommends. “Like with fruit or chocolates.”   
Zethrid nods. “Then work your way up. Get him coffee for a meeting or bring him one of those bagels you’re always eating.”   
Those bagels are actually ones he steals from Hunk when the yellow paladin is looking away but if it’s for Keith, the increased risk is worth it.

“Then go for the big hitters like actual meals. Breakfast is always a good one.”  
He frowns. “Not dinner?”

Acxa shakes her head, purple bob swaying gracefully. “No. Breakfast, as you humans say, is the most important meal of the day. You start it off with them, saying you’re thinking of them first thing in the morning.”  
“It’s romantic.” sums up Ezor.

Shiro nods because they’ve got a point. Just envisioning Keith in his apartment, trying waffles for the first time, grimacing at the taste of orange juice, makes him smile.

Okay. Okay he’s got this.

  
  


Armed with actual knowledge of galra courting, Shiro sets out on his mission.

He does as they recommended and starts with gifts.

Keith had liked the sweater Shiro had originally given him, which makes sense since he went with his gut rather than what his friends had told him to do. He had bought it with Keith in mind, knowing the small galra liked soft things, and it had been a hit. Since that’s the whole point of them, he’s glad.

He’s actually wearing the sweater again when Shiro finds him the next day. This time, he’s in the library with his knees pulled up to his chest in his usual spot. His purple tail hangs over the edge of his seat, curling and uncurling like a fist as he reads. Whatever books he is reading must be pretty good, because he doesn’t even look up as Shiro steps closer.

Even when he’s leaning over him does he not look up and so politely, Shiro coughs.

The galra flinches immediately, tail drawing in close and his grip tightening severely on his book. His ears raise though, high and alert as yellow and blue eyes narrow in at him.

Keith relaxes when he sees who it is and Shiro chuckles a bit, lifting a hand to run through his own bangs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes the empty seat by Keith, who sighs.

“You didn’t.” He lies. “Don’t you have a meeting right now?”

Shiro shakes his head. “There was an accident in the labs this morning so Sam had to cancel.”

Keith nods and slips a piece of paper into his book before tucking it by his thighs, focusing all his attention on Shiro. He likes that about him. No matter who it is or what he’s doing, Keith always drops it all to focus on them.

“And what brings you here?” He purrs cheekily, as if he doesn’t already know.

He doesn’t even try to hide it. “I have something for you.”

Keith raises a delicate eyebrow. “Oh?” He side eyes him.

Shiro hums.

Keith clicks his tongue, a fang coming out to bite his lip. “You’ve given me a lot of gifts lately.”

Shiro smiles and holds the look. “You deserve nice things.”

It’s worth it when a pretty lilac blush covers his cheeks, Keith ducking his head to hide a smile he sees anyway. His own grows.

Maybe this isn’t so hard after all.

He reaches into his jacket, where in the oddly large inside pocket he has the gift. It’s not wrapped expertly, the corners a little more smudged than pointy and a red ribbon wraps around it all. He hands the little thing to him.

Keith holds it like it’s something precious, the blush still sitting pretty. He brings it to his lap and eyes it, as if he has to take it all in, and then turns his gaze back to him, peering through his long dark lashes.

It’s a look that doesn’t feel like it belongs here, one that’s makes the warmth in him burn a little hotter, and he has to push the thought aside of where he’d rather be seeing it.

This isn’t about that. ( _Not yet anyway_.)

Shiro gives what’s hopefully an encouraging grin. “Go on.”

Keith nods simply, running his finger under the ribbon and snipping it with his pointed claw easily. He gathers it in his first and runs his claw along the edge of the wrapping, splitting the paper neatly and clean. He makes it look effortless and like a letter opener or a knife and Shiro knows he shouldn’t feel as impressed as he does at this simple elegance.

Keith isn’t trying to look fancy after all. For him this is something normal. Still, he likes the look of it.

He pulls the rest of the paper out, revealing a thin stack of even thinner books. The small smile he had been sporting the whole time broadens and he lifts his head again to look at him.

“You got me books?” He asks like he’s surprised Shiro’s noticed Keith likes them. As if he didn’t hang out in the library every day or have a book with him pretty much every chance he gets.

“They’re earth classics.” Shiro tells him, leaning forward into his space and resting his elbows on his knees, hands hanging between them. “I know you’re going through everything they’ve got here but it’s mostly nonfiction.”

He gives a shrug, like he hasn’t agonized over this choice all day yesterday at the bookstore with Veronica. It’s true that Keith pretty much has only been reading nonfiction books and while that’s fine, Shiro knew his motivation was less learning about flight and more about trying to learn about earth.

“I figured you’d like something a bit more interesting.” He goes on. Keith doesn’t necessarily need an explanation but it feels wrong to not give one. “I read these when I was younger.”

He lifts the thinnest one up, eyeing the smooth, cursive lettering of its title. It’s the oldest book in the stack, one that took him several stops to find, but Keith’s smile is more than worth it.

The blush is still sitting on his cheeks when he flashes him a look. “Thank you, Shiro.” He says before ducking his eyes back down.

Yes. Not so hard at all.

  
  


Shiro doesn’t have any weapons to give and even if he did, he’s pretty sure Keith wouldn’t use it anyway since he’s got his marmoran knife. So Shiro forgoes the idea entirely and sets out for the gym.

It’s a Tuesday, so he knows Keith is penciled in for the mats. Usually, he practices with Regris and Antok on those days, but Shiro had bribed the two with liquor earlier and convinced them to swap with him. He had to get Lance to cover for him in a meeting too, but the blue paladin had been more than eager to go and prove himself. Shiro is sure he’s regretting that now, nestled in a too small chair listening to Slav ramble on and on (and on) about alternate realities and socks, but Shiro can’t even bring himself to feel even partially bad. Better Lance than him any day.

With his afternoon successfully freed up, he rushes to his room to put on his best workout gear. The leggings aren’t a favorite of his, as he definitely prefers basketball shorts, but Allura had promised him they showed off his ass rather well and he puts on his most translucent white tank top to go with. Usually, Shiro would scoff at anyone that goes to the gym dressed this thirsty, but he’s a desperate man on a mission and he really doesn’t want to lose.

Armed as he is, he pre wraps his hands and ankles, knowing Keith is going to easily put him through his paces. They’ve never sparred together before, conflicting schedules and just not enough time going against them, but Shiro’s seen enough to know the blade is more than capable, significantly above anyone else Shiro’s seen fight, and he’s ready for challenge.

Perhaps it’s narcissistic to think, but he’s never lost before and he’s eager to see if that’ll change today.

When he gets to the gym though, it’s not Keith that’s a blushing, sweaty mess. He came to seduce but, as always, Keith puts in no effort and manages to beat him in his own game.

Like him, Keith’s wearing tight black leggings only better. Shiro is no slacker in the butt department but Keith? Well. He’s definitely ahead that’s for sure, as Shiro’s eyes like to remind him every single day.  
He’s also shirtless and sweaty, purple and white chest heaving as he helps a fellow Blade off the ground, forearm bulging slightly with the effort. The Galra he’s helping up is easily twice his size, if not more, but judging by the wounded look on his face, he’s been put in his place. Keith smiles, fangs bared just a little, and gives a laugh as the other walks off, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, and Shiro is smitten at the sight.

_Please step on me_ , he thinks, half in a daze, as Keith turns to him and the smile he had been sporting grows into a grin.

“Shiro!” He greets, happy and bright like the sun he is. His tail swooshes behind him, faster than usual. “What are you doing here?”  
He forces a chuckle and tries not to be so obvious staring at Keith’s defined chest. There’s a long purple mark on both sides of his hip Shiro didn’t know about, marks similar to the ones Krolia sports on her cheeks, and he wants to wrap his palms around them.

“Came to spar. You in?”  
Keith grins, slightly feral and wicked. “To kick your ass? Always.”   
He laughs, for real this time, as delight fills him. “Bold words, brat.”   
Keith hums and bounces back on his heels, yellow and blue eyes sparkling. The gym lights are too dim for that but perhaps he really is his own sun and that just happens naturally for him. Shiro would believe it.

“Not bold.” He hedges. “Accurate.”

He smiles close mouthed and Keith’s own lips twitch back up with an easy smirk. “We’ll see.”  
They get into position, both agreeing the spar is a go. Shiro with his legs spread and knees slightly bent and Keith with his fists and elbows raised before him. There’s a serious set to his mouth where a slight smile is on Shiro’s, and he has a brief thought of Keith taking this so seriously before the half Galra is suddenly moving.

It’s a second, half a breath, and a blink before Shiro finds himself staring at the ceiling, back flat on the ground with Keith bouncing on the balls of his feet to his left. It hasn’t even been a second and Keith’s already beat him. He didn’t even see it happening, didn’t even feel the weight of his strikes.

But he definitely feels it now, the smartening cool against his jaw where Keith landed a quick right hook. His ankle aches too, Shiro guessing from Keith’s light feet pulling him down with a clean, quick sweep.

He turns his head, still panting on the ground, to catch Keith still eyeing him seriously, not a single hint of the earlier smirk on his face, though his tail betrays him with the lazy, teasing curl of it as it stays behind him.

He’s proud and smug and he absolutely deserves it.

Shiro picks himself up, grinning and hands coming up to his face.

He holds that grin as he meets Keith’s eyes. “Alright then.” He says and then they’re moving again.

As he moves his body back, swaying in time with Keith’s own well coordinated moves, he thinks he gets where the Galra are coming from. He never would have thought sparring to be a tease, a dangerous flirting, but every shift of his arm and every block has that air to it, carrying it with it effortlessly.

Keith’s tail and eyes swim with it, even if his galra friend doesn’t even notice it. Though, he suspects he does by the smile on his face, a bit too soft to be a jest.

There’s something happening here and even if he doesn’t quite understand it, he definitely feels it and that’s enough for him to want it last even more.

By the end of the night, he hasn’t won a single spar. His skin is hot and smarting, new bruises and cuts forming all along his body, and Keith is panting heavily and blushing darkly with exertion, but his touches linger a little longer than usual, his distance a little less, and he counts that as a victory, a true one.

  
  


Next, he enlists Kosmo.

The wolf is pretty much always around Keith so it takes some finnangling and whispered bribes of treats to get him away but eventually he manages to convince Kosmo to do some little favors for him.

He spent a few hours last night after work wrapping everything up. Little things like dried flowers and hand crafted figures have been tied with a simple string and tag. Others, like the box of chocolates he bought and the collection of scrunchies, were wrapped.

The generals told him to go small and so he did.

Kosmo is all too happy to gather the gifts up and hide them, sliding them under Keith’s pillows and tucking them in his shoes. A few keep popping up in his gym locker. Kosmo even puts one in their ship, sitting innocently on his pilot seat.

Each gift has a tag on it that Shiro wrote cheesy words on and signed with his name. There is no longer any time left for subtlety. He doesn’t care for being shy and gentle with his approach.

It’s worth it when Keith walks into a meeting, a bright red ribbon tied in a bow at the base of his braid, and shoots him a shy, happy smile. He returns it and takes a long sip of his coffee, hiding a much more smug grin.

It’s harder to hide those grins when Keith starts to routinely wear all the ribbons and scrunchies he’s gifted him but he stops trying and soon, Keith returns all of them like they’re in this big secret together.

He has Kosmo start getting them snacks too. It was a lot easier to train him to do this part than he thought it would be but as Keith is constantly reminding everyone how smart the wolf is, he probably shouldn’t have been surprised.

Kosmo knows how to handle money and gifts it seems and while he’s sure the first few teleporting visits to the cafe down the street had been a shock to everyone, the staff seems to expect his hand written notes with his order as he doesn’t have to write them anymore and Kosmo can just pop in with the money (tip included) and get his to-go bag.

It’s bit of a struggle both finding Kosmo with enough time before he and Keith are set to cross path and not have the wolf eat whatever Shiro buys that day, but thankfully he seems to at least partially understand what's going on and doesn’t devour everything.

Shiro starts ordering seconds of their treats though to give him and if the wolf is a little plumper that’s their secret.

Keith always seems pleasantly surprised whenever Shiro walks in with coffee or a pair of bagels, but he takes every proffered goodie with a tuck of his hair and a blush Shiro starts to recognize coming.

Happiness is a nice look on him and he wants to see it more, so even when Acxa tells him he’s given him enough snacks by now, he keeps doing it.

  
  


Next, he visits Romelle.

No one knows Keith better, besides Krolia and Kolivan but he’s not asking them because he’d rather survive this, thanks.

Romelle, of course, is still a risk but one he’s going to take anyway.

She lives at the edge of the base, where the civilian ranks are for the officer’s families. He’s sweating as he walks past the doors, eyeing the numbers and looking for the bright 109 one Allura instructed him. Finally, he finds it at the bend of the hall and gives a series of probably too sharp knocks.

The door is swiftly opened. 

Romelle takes one look at him and beckons him in silently. Shiro doesn’t say anything as she leads him inside, just fiddles and squeezes his hands nervously as he follows.

Romelle leads him into her bedroom, a space decorated with an odd mix of bright teals and pinks with splashed of pretty much every color. It somehow goes together.

She pats her bed, giving him a look, before she disappears into her connected bathroom, returning with a bag he vaguely recognizes as a makeup bag similar to one Allura herself owns.

Romelle sits next to him, knees bending under her as she digs around before studying him hard, eyes narrowed in a squint, before she pulls out a bright purple nail polish bottle.

She wiggles her fingers at him and he wordlessly gives her his hand, saying nothing as she slowly starts to paint his nails. He’s never had them done before, has never felt the urge, but it’s kinda nice he thinks.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, finishing his pinky and two more fingers before she blows on them, mouth a pouty pink O.

“This is about Keith isn’t it?” She says out of nowhere and he tries not to squirm as he avoids her gaze.

“Yes.” He admits, fighting the seventh hundredth blush that week.

She nods, clearly expecting the answer, and finishes off his hand before going to the next. He hands it over.

“Keith doesn’t care for tradition very much.” She says, not looking at him at all now, her voice soft and gentle like it always is when it comes to Keith. Shiro tries not to panic and as if she senses him, she continues. “Don’t get me wrong, he likes it as much as anyone but he doesn’t need or expect it like Ezor and Acxa might.”

She blows on his thumb, critically eyeing the other nails as she inspects them. “Keith just likes people. He doesn’t have a need or want for fancy jewels or your own hunted meal.”

Shiro is suddenly very glad he never listened to Coran’s plan.

“But there is one thing.” She says and this time she looks up at him. She’s biting her lip like she’s holding in a secret and knowing them, she probably is. Shiro tries not to get excited, tries not to look too eager, and it must work enough for she keeps going, a smile easing it’s way onto her face.

And as she talks, her voice carrying over the idea of Keith’s greatest wants, like it’s something the two of them talked about often and for long periods of time, Shiro forms an idea in his head and as it builds and grows and all the colors fill in, a plan is made and he knows what he’s gotta do.

  
  


That night, he takes Keith to the roof.

It’s nothing new. The two of them have spent countless nights and days up here, looking up at the sky. Shiro’s showed him all the constellations he could, one’s far recognized from his childhood and early days here at the academy. It’s less about learning and discovering now as it was then and more about just basking in it and talking.

They’re silent for a good half hour when Keith starts to fiddle with his hair. It’d been in a high ponytail today but as the night wears on and it comes to a close, it’s falling out of place. Pesky strands fall in his eyes and brush against his chin and he swipes them away with an annoyed sigh.

“You alright there?” Shiro asks him softly.

He sighs but nods, reaching back to pull the ponytail as if tightening it will make it hold better.

“Want me to fix it?” He offers and Keith’s breath hitches as soon as the words register.

This is what Romelle had told him. Hair, it seems, is an important aspect of Galra culture. It’s fallen out of favor thanks to Zarkon’s empire, but long before him the Galra had their own language with hair. Different styles could mean different things, could tell you something. The ponytail Keith had been sporting today, for example, with it’s tiny braid plated around his crown told Shiro that Keith was happy, at ease, and content. Something new and exciting was growing in his life.

Most of the galra no longer practice this, as short cropped styles had been favored in the empire for ease in battle, but the Marmora had held onto the tradition. Koliovan, Romelle ad told him, sported the traditional braid of a leader, the strands long enough to scarf around his neck. Krolia’s own little tail was custom for widows. The looping high braids Keith often wore was a sign of a high ranking warrior.

Not everyone in the Blade practiced this style of course, as not all of them even had hair, but Keith definitely did and all could interpret it.

“Sure,” Keith breathes out and wordlessly pulls out his red scrunchie, handing it over and turning around so Shiro can reach him.

He picks up some strands gently, gliding his fingers through it slowly as he tries to brush out the knots and tangles of the day. Keith’s hair is fairly smooth, silky with his evident care and attention. He takes care of it well and Shiro tries to as well as he begins to easily braid it in the style Romelle had shown him.

His heart beats a little quicker as Keith gives a light gasp, having recognized the braid Shiro was giving him. He doesn’t say anything though or tries to yank his hair back so Shiro keeps going, face warm.

It’s the braid for courtship, one that’ll let everyone know Keith is not single and is currently being treated to. It doesn’t say they’re dating exactly, as Romelle had explained that’s still something you ask for and actually has its own hairstyle for too, but it sends enough of a signal no one’s going to be bothering him or trying to steal his hand away.

Overall, it’s a simple braid. A few strands remain alone by his face, bangs left too. He makes two little braids near his ears that connect back into a long middle braid that flows down Keith’s back, right above his spine, and ties it with the scrunchie with a snap. 

It only takes a few minutes to do, and most of that only because his thick fingers are unused to the motions. He gives Keith’s shoulder a little pat.

“All done.”

The galra turns around, purple skin darker with a blush and the night surrounding them. His eyes flash with the moonlight though as he looks up at Shiro, holding his gaze steady as he reaches up to run a shaky hand over the braid. He toys with the end of it, thumb running over the edges.

“Thank you, Shiro.” He says, still looking at him hard.

He doesn’t look away. “You’re welcome.”  
Keith keeps holding his gaze as he touches the braid, clearly fascinated with it.

The next day, he’s still sporting the braid, it’s strands noticeably messier and frizzier than Keith’s hair usually is. Even Kolivan’s heavy glare across the room is worth the sight alone.

  
  


The last step in his plan is dinner, and with only one day left until Valentine’s Day, he’s running out of time. If he doesn’t find Keith today, then he’s likely to miss him and tomorrow, it’s going to be someone else asking to be his valentine.

Yet the universe seems against him. He checks everywhere, asks everyone. No one’s seen him.

Keith isn’t in the library or outside. He isn’t scheduled for any meetings today and despite the five separate times he checks, Keith doesn’t enter the training room. Even at lunch, his absence is noted where the generals are not. They sit with Romelle and Allura today, all chatting happily, and yet Keith is nowhere around yet again.

Shiro asks pretty much everyone he sees, even the MFE’s, who he knows Keith doesn’t talk to. No one knows.

“Did you check his ship?” Pidge asked. He had.

James had shrugged. “Gym?” Obviously.

“He’ll show up for dinner.” Hunk had promised. Keith did not show up.

So, with his shoulders slumped in defeat, he gives up for the day and hopes that, despite his very low chances, he’s the first one to see Keith tomorrow.

The next morning, Shiro wakes up with a renewed sense of energy. This is the day he’s been waiting for, the big one. 

He starts it on the right foot and heads to the nearest bakery, where a line greets him as people just like him try to squeeze in a last little sweet. If it was just for him, perhaps he’d leave and forgo it entirely, but he’s pretty sure Keith’s never had cupcakes before and so it’s more than worth the wait.

A small box of too much icing cupcakes later, he’s out the door and heading back to the base. The sun is out and feels gentle on his face, like a hand cupping him, and he happily soaks it in. It’s still early yet and while Keith is likely up already, Shiro doesn’t see any harm in lingering.

A lot could go wrong with this. Maybe he’s misread the signs entirely and Keith doesn’t actually see him as anything more than a friend.

However, Valentine’s Day proves much the same as the day before.

After waiting for hours, asking pretty much everyone he saw and texting people off base evn, he gives up. Perhaps someone else had found Keith first and snagged him away. Shiro can’t blame them. So he eats the cupcakes with a pout, moping all day and grumbling loud enough that even Hunk is annoyed with him, and eventually he heads home when Iverson has had enough of his pity party and sends him off.

“You’re pathetic and I don’t want to look at it.” He had said and Shiro agreed.

So Shiro returns home, the only place he can go when he finds nothing. Disappointment hangs off of him in waves. Keith will be leaving soon, at the end of the party to return to space with the rest of the Blades. Tonight was really his only chance to get this all right (finally) and he’s missed it.

He drags his feet the whole way there and when he finally reaches his door, he slumps against it and it takes three tries to get his key in the lock with how slow he’s going. Sighing, he opens the door and takes off his coat, letting it slide off his shoulders and down his arms. Turning on his heel, he faces his empty apartment, the lacking presence heavy in his mind.

His last breath gets caught in his throat at what he sees though.

Keith is standing in his kitchen, blue jeans and the sweater Shiro bought him on. There’s an apron tied around his waist, loose and crooked and dirty, and he’s got a smudge of what’s probably chocolate on his purple cheek. His hair is still braided in the courting style, Shiro’s terrible, messy attempt somehow still hanging on for dear life.

A nervous smile teases his face and he has never looked more beautiful.

“Keith?” He says, taking a step closer. He doesn’t want to assume, doesn’t want to go where this isn’t, but god he really hopes . . . .

A hint of fang flashes with an uneasy grin. “Sorry for barging in.” He does not sound sorry and Shiro doesn’t want him to. Keith is always welcomed here. Wanted here.

Shiro tells him as much and watches as purple burns brighter on his cheeks, skin blending in and failing to hide most of the blush.

Still, he smiles something soft before shooting Shiro a wicked grin, eyes flashing bright.

“You left your spare key under the doormat.” Keith tells him, single eyebrow raising. “Not very street smart are you, Commander?”

Blushing, he stammers. “No one ever comes here!”

Keith hums and takes a step closer, tail curling lazily behind him. “No? Well if they did, it wouldn’t be hard to get in.” 

They’re chest to chest now and Shiro can smell the cool scent of his shampoo, the typical kind all the Blades seem to use, but the familiar scent of it, not at all unlike earths own men’s shampoos, makes his skin burn with eagerness. He wants to touch and for once, he allows himself that.

He places a hand on Keith’s waist, cool metal fingers curling around it easily and the tales just hums and turns his body a little more inward, pleased.

The burning intensifies.

He could get used to this so quickly. Already, he wants it. Has for some time now. Keith looks good in his living room, standing there smelling like Shiro’s own shampoo and an apron tied around his dainty figure. He wants to see him every day, wants to come home to him every day, and the ache inside of him yearns for it, makes him want to hold onto this moment forever so it never has to end.

“I made you dinner.” Keith tells him after a moment of them just standing there, staring at each other.

“Oh?” Shiro asks, as if his heart isn’t beating a mile a minute at the implications of this.

Keith clicks his tongue. “That’s what you wanted right? It’s the next step.”

They’ve never talked about it. Never mentioned the little game they were playing, so obviously so in front of everyone, but his tone is cool and collected as he says it, like it’s not a big deal.

And maybe, at the end of it, it really isn’t. It’s definitely not a difficult one, to love Keith.

“Yes,” He admits, the words breathing out with the strain of confession. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”  
Keith ducks his head. “I didn’t at first. Mom pointed it out to me.”   
That’s an embarrassing thought and Shiro can just imagine Krolia’s teasing smirk and eye rolls. Kolivan’s glare flashes through his mind. It could have been worse, he supposes.

Shiro clears his throat. “What,” He swallows. “What did you make?”  
He pulls back, reaching up to lace Shiro’s fingers with his own. A light tug pulls him along as Keith pulls him deeper into his apartment. They make the turn into the kitchen, living room out of sight around the other corner. He follows, going easily.

“Your favorite.” He whispers, voice so close to his skin as he crowds back against him and he shivers with the rhythm of it.

Sure enough, sitting on his plain counter, atop his simple plates, is macaroni and cheese. There’s two glasses of wine next to it, already poured and waiting, and he almost cries at the sight of it.

Somehow, Shiro hadn’t really allowed himself to think of Keith returning his feelings. This whole time, he’s been the one actively pursuing and now, here is, Keith in his kitchen, having clearly made him dinner from scratch. It’s simple, nothing fancy, but it makes him burn with it, makes him ache, and as the galra picks up the glasses, turning to hand Shiro one of his own, he knows what he wants.

“Do you like it?” Keith asks him and he almost laughs. How could he not?

He takes a sip of the wine, sweet and strong on his tongue, before he sets the glass back down, reaching to take Keith’s own too. He lifts his hands, cupping Keith’s face on both sides. His cheeks are warm and he can feel his pulse against the bottom of his palm. Keith eyes him, irises darting to linger over his face, watching and waiting and maybe hoping.

“I like you.” Shiro tells him.

He sees him swallow. “I like you too.” Keith whispers back.

It’s just the two of them, no one else is here, but this moment feels small and secret. He wants to frame it in his head, wants to make it linger with a brush. He runs a thumb under his eye and watches his lips part. A tongue pokes out to wet them and he watches that too.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and Keith doesn’t say anything, just gives a tiny nod and closes his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering shut.

He moves a hand into his hair, guiding Keith’s jaw with the other as he leans in. It’s a soft press of lips, a soft kiss. There’s going to be time for hunger and impatience later. He wants to feel this moment. Wants to remember it for as long as he can.

Keith breathes in with him on the next press and his hand tightens on his strands, the briad truly falling apart now, but he keeps going, presses impossibly closer. He has longed for this chance. It feels like he’s waited years and the shape of his mouth against his own feels familiar, like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

A noise hitches in Keith’s throat and Shiro echoes it. It’s a different kind of talk than they started with, there’s no words here, but he understands. They always have.

When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects them still before it too snaps. Keith is slow to open his eyes and Shiro himself breathes harder than he was a minute ago but neither comments.

Keith moves first this time though, closing what little space they had had before, and pressing himself flush against him. He cups Shiro’s face in return and yanks his head forward to devour his mouth in a completely different kiss and as he loses himself to it, he spares a fleeting thought to the giant stuffed bear in his bedroom.

He has one more gift to give, but they’ll get to it later. Right now, he has this.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after (obviously).  
> I'm so nervous posting this but I hope you liked it. I'm on twitter @kkeithkatt if you're about that.


End file.
